


Safe and Sound

by Nihonkikuasa211



Category: Code Black (TV)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Memories, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Tag to 2x05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 05:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8611357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihonkikuasa211/pseuds/Nihonkikuasa211
Summary: He could hear the harsh tickling of his breath as he continued to sob. Smooth circles were rubbed across his back, comforting, and Mario wondered how long it had been since he had last cried. How long had it been since he had felt safe in another's arms?





	

_Safe and Sound_                                              

 

              Mario could feel hands across his back. They were gentle, smooth fingers rubbing small circles to his tense back as he continued to sob. _“I’m okay.”_ How…could it be possible? He was just talking to his father, the old bastard being snarky as usual and Mario telling himself again that it was the last time he would ever associate with his father. But the sobs tearing from his throat were real.

              It wasn’t an illusion.

              He wasn’t high.

              Mario’s father was dead.

              The second-year still didn’t understand of how he didn’t know. His father was actually kind to him – compared to his normal tone of degrading everything Mario did, calling him a waste, and so many other words that eventually, the resident had thought were true. He should have known that his father would have…no reason to something like this just because.

              He could hear the harsh tickling of his breath as he continued to sob. Smooth circles were rubbed across his back, comforting, and Mario wondered how long it had been since he had last cried. The resident was being gripped tightly. Mario could still feel nothing but grief as he continued to sob.

             How long had it been since he had cried? Even as a child, his father had always snarled at him to stop his whining and shut up. Mario knew better than to cry. Sometimes his father would abandon him after getting high out of his mind, or drunk, leaving Mario alone with only the darkness and the video with Yoda for company. Then, when he had stupidly shouted to his father that he wanted to be a Jedi when he grew up, his father had thrown a beer bottle at him. Mario had been too stunned with fear to even shake as he heard the glass shattered. As his father shouted that he wasn’t good for anything, and he was stupid and –

              And he should have died like his useless mother.

              It was a drug overdose. Mario had been the one to find her. It had been a year after he had been forgotten and spent the weekend with his third-grade teacher. He still remembered finding her in the small room, with rumpled sheets and stained clothes, with a needle in her arm.

              _“Mom?”_

He would always remember of how her dark hair – curly, like his when it got long enough – splayed over her forehead and wearing a t-shirt that she said would go into the laundry someday. Her feet were bare, and stuck out to his child eyes as he saw the pale toes beneath the sheets. She was wearing shorts even though it was fall. She always loved fall. Sometimes, when she wasn’t high – which were few moments in between – his mother would describe her memories as a child, growing up in a house without addicts for parents. She would always look at him then, a small sad look on her face that would always appear when she looked at him, and stroked his cheek without saying a word.

              Her hands, thin and unmarked with track marks, were by her sides.

              Only the needle in her arm made Mario start to scream.

              He was still screaming when his father came home and slapped him so hard his head spun, landing on the hard floor as his father cursed and told him to shut up.

It felt like her hands. The very touch was the same, with the tender loving care. Yes, she had been hopelessly addicted to drugs and whatever she could get, but Mario had no doubt that she had loved him. Why else would his earliest memories be being in his mother’s arms as she rubbed small, soothing circles on his back? Why else did it feel like everything had died when he and his father had gone to the small funeral as she was buried in the ground? The sneer on his father’s face after the funeral would always echo in Mario’s mind.

              Was this what it felt like? Since he had been very young, no one had touched him like this. No one had attempted to. Mario was too cold, too angry and screwed in the head for anyone to even think of touching him. But now…

              Broken sobs were tearing from his throat as he sobbed out the grief and anger that he had toward his father dying in front of him and having to make the call. His breathing was uneven, coming in uneven gaps as Mario felt his face continue to morph into the ugliness of grief.

              Those arms embracing him were so warm. They were even more gentle than Mario thought they would be. _Angus…_ It had been a rough couple of months. For so long, Mario had been the one to comfort Angus. He had told his friend over and over again that it was going to be okay. He was going to be okay. Mario didn’t quite understand why his thoughts always revolved around Angus, even when having his own emotional exhaustion to deal with. _“What do you mean you’re a disappointment? You’re a doctor!”_ His father’s words had hurt more than Mario had wanted them to. He had foolishly thought that he would have been able to forget his father’s words. That he was a fraud. And that only his father knew him for who he truly was.

              Mario had told himself over and over that he didn’t belong here with the residents. He was only…a fraud, trying to be and feel something that he would never feel. But that had changed. Angus had no idea of how Mario had wanted to thank him for his simple words. He had never thought that hearing specific words from one single person could change everything.

              And of how one person could change him into a better man.

              Mario could feel Angus’ gentle hands continue to stroke his skin, warmth flowing through his body from the contact. He had told Angus that he was okay. But, he really wasn’t. It took only the gentle whispered words to come near that one person to allow the shattering resolve to fully break. Mario had gripped Angus, his arms tight around the other resident as gross sobs tore from his gaping mouth. His head was against Angus’ chest, but the resident didn’t seem to care.

            He continued to touch Mario’s back gently, moving small circles around his skin.

            Soothing.

            Warm.

            Safe.

           Mario felt safe in Angus’ arms.

          A soft humming echoed in Mario’s ears. Soft, and slightly whistling as Mario began to close his eyes. He didn’t want to move from this warm place. He felt…safe, good, in the first in a long time.

          It was probably a lullaby. Mario didn’t know, as his mother was often either too high and broken to sing to him. But this…felt nice.

          Mario felt that he would be okay as long as he was in Angus’ arms.


End file.
